THE GOD OF SECOND CHANCES
September 28, 2003
The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
is a story told of the great Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon, who was journeying from the Academy at Yavneh to his home in Migdal Gedor to spend the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur holy days with his family. Along the way he passed through the village of Tekoa. The people of Tekoa were honored to have such a famous scholar in their midst, and begged the Rabbi to speak to them in their synagogue. So he obliged them by delivering one of his finest sermons, in which he likened the potter at his wheel, the weaver at her loom, the blacksmith at his anvil, to "the One Who Made Us All, and who sees us all as intrinsically beautiful."
Now, in the Synagogue that day was a poor, very deformed beggar, who was so moved by the Rabbi's words that he waited by the side of the road afterward for a blessing from the Rabbi. But when the Rabbi rode by on his donkey, and the beggar approached him for the blessing, the Rabbi was so repulsed by the man's appearance that, without thinking, he gasped, "Heaven shield me from such ugliness!"
The beggar was of course deeply hurt and disillusioned. "Ugly, am I?" he said with sarcasm. "Then go to the One Who Made Us All" and say to Him, 'How ugly is this vessel You have formed!'"
The great Rabbi blushed with shame. Not only had he humiliated this poor man, but he had violated his own teaching to cherish all of God's creation. He turned to the beggar and said, "I am so sorry; I have wronged you. I spoke without thinking. I am deeply sorry. Please forgive me."
But the beggar would hear none of it. "I will forgive you when The One Who Made Us All forgives you." The rabbi got off his donkey, took off his sandals, tore his robe, and prostrated himself on the ground. He began throwing handfuls of dust on his head, and begged forgiveness. But still the man refused, saying only, "I will forgive you when the One Who Made Us All forgives you." The Rabbi remained lying in the dust at the feet of the beggar, who ignored him.
*****
This past Friday at sundown, the Jewish High Holy Day of Rosh Hashanah began - the New Year according to the Jewish calendar. It is said that on this day, each of our destinies for the year to come is written by God in the Book of Life. But those who haven't been good enough the past year to appear in the Book are given ten extra days - called the Days of Awe - in which to reflect on our life, and to make amends for any wrongs we've committed. We are given by God a second chance. That is what the good Rabbi was requesting from the beggar: a second chance.
Now I suspect we can all identify with the Rabbi, if we're honest. How many times do we realize our actions haven't matched our words? How many times do we fall short, either as individuals or as a religious community, of truly living our Unitarian Universalist Principles? And we who are parents probably don't have enough fingers and toes on which to count the number of times we've said or done things to our children we'd swore we'd never do!
Perhaps that's why such an image of a God - of one who gives us innumerable chances to redeem ourselves -- exists in both the Jewish and the Christian stories: The writers were people like us, yearning for the opportunity to try again; knowing their human frailties, but striving always to do better.
It may be why the story of Jonah is told in synagogues during these holy days. In that story God sends Jonah to Ninevah to give the people there another chance to renounce their sinful living, because he doesn't really want to destroy them. But Jonah tries to escape the job he's been given; tries to trick God by taking off in the opposite direction. Eventually finding himself in the belly of a great fish, he begs God for a second chance, and God gives it to him.
But once Jonah gets to Ninevah, and the people there hear his warning and beg God for forgiveness, Jonah is appalled when God so easily grants it. God says to Jonah, "If I'm going to give you a second chance, wouldn't I also do the same for these of my children - who are so lost they don't even know their right hand from their left?"
It is this image of God - the loving, all-merciful "One Who Made Us All" - which is honored and celebrated by Jews at this time of year. Indeed, it is this image of God that our Universalist ancestors worshipped.
The Days of Awe between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur invite us to stop our routines for just a while, and to look deeply at the way in which we have been living our lives for the past year. How have we treated those we love, those with whom we work, those with whom we worship, and those who are strangers? Where have we fallen short of our vision of who we are? For what misdeeds have we longed to be given a second chance?
One of the rituals of Rosh Hashanah is to find a body of moving water, and symbolically throw one's sins into the water, to be washed away and worried about no more. I was reminded of this ritual not long ago when talking with a friend of mine. She had left her husband several years ago after falling in love with a co-worker, who she has since married. It was a very painful experience for everyone, as she uprooted her children from the stability of the family they'd known, and transformed the relationship with her ex-husband into one of intense conflict. All these years since the separation, her ex-husband has held on to his rage, refusing to forgive her, and doing whatever he can to intensify her already-deep guilt.
But a few months ago my friend decided to seek some help, and entered into Spiritual Direction with a very wise priest we both knew. During the process she decided to make a formal confession of her sins - something she hadn't done in years. She met with the priest and read him her long list of perceived sins, particularly in regards to her relationship with her ex-husband and children. The priest listened with no judgment, prayed with her, and assured her she was forgiven by God.
At the end of the session, he took her list of sins from her, crumpled it up and tossed it in the wastebasket. "Can't I have that back?" asked my friend. "Oh no," he said; "you're done with them now. They're gone." My friend was a bit disappointed, as she had been planning to keep the list of sins in her journal so she could re-visit her angst from time to time! But she also suddenly felt a great burden being lifted from her heart - a release and freedom she'd not felt in years.
Of course, if my friend were Jewish, she would also be required to approach her ex-husband and their children, and ask them for forgiveness. For Rosh Hashanah calls us to not only make amends with our God, but also with those we have harmed. Anyone involved in a 12-step program knows the importance of this step in one's recovery.
But this may also be one of the most difficult things for us to do, particularly if what we're asking is to be forgiven for something for which we ourselves feel great shame. It requires not only humility, but a willingness to risk rejection - to risk not being granted the forgiveness we seek.
© 2003 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
